


The Revenge of the Hot Number Affair or The Magic Brownie Affair

by spikesgirl58



Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:07:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Ramona sends home some special brownies to Napoleon and Illya, their minds are.. expanded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Revenge of the Hot Number Affair or The Magic Brownie Affair

Immediately following The Hot Number Affair

 

It was the smell that caught Illya’s attention first.  Napoleon was carrying a tray of something through his front door and, being a good spy, Illya immediately stood to investigate.

“Napoleon, what do you have there?”  He crossed the living room with a purposeful stride, for he was a man on a mission.

Napoleon tried to suppress a grin.  Trust the Russian to be all attention when there was food involved. “Oh, Ramona brought Jerry brownies as a gesture.  Come to find out, he’s allergic to chocolate, so she gave them to me.”

“They smell a little different.”  Illya picked up one and sniffed it.

“Apparently Ramona has a friend who runs a very hip restaurant and these are one of his specialties.  Very cutting edge.”

“How do you make a brownie special?”  Illya turned it over and studied it from that angle.  “It looks like a regular brownie to me.”

“No idea.”  Napoleon set the plate down on his coffee table.  “Still it was a nice gesture, so I accepted.  It’s free food, so I knew you wouldn’t mind.  Do you have the reports we need to review?”

“I do.”  Illya took a large bite of his brownie.  “It’s nice and moist, good flavor… do you have any milk?”

“Coffee?”

“Tea?”

“Tea, it is.”  Napoleon picked up a brownie of his own and began to eat it as he walked to the kitchen.  He started some coffee for himself and dug around until he found a stash of tea.   By the time he’d gotten the leaves into a tea ball, the water was boiling and his coffee was ready.  The brownie was also a distant memory.  He found himself craving another.

He gathered everything together on a tray and carried it carefully out to the living room.  A peculiar feeling of languidness was creeping over him.  It was a good thing he’d brewed the coffee strong.  The last few weeks had been non-stop.  If they could just have three days to themselves, Napoleon was confident that they could get a handle on their paperwork.

Illya was sprawled in his chair, looking very laid back for his normally energetic partner.  He grinned a slightly lopsided smile.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” Napoleon answered and set down the tray beside the half empty tray.  “How many of those did you eat?  You’ll give yourself a stomachache.”

“I’m Russian.  It wouldn’t dare.  I only had four or maybe seven.”  Illya giggled.  “I feel a little funny.”

“You look a little funny,” Napoleon mumbled around his brownie, which he was holding in his mouth while he poured tea into a cup.  “Here, have some tea.”

“Thanks.”  Illya grunted his way into an upright position, took the cup, then immediately set it aside with sipping it.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s hot.”

“How do you know?”  Napoleon blinked his eyes sleepily and sank into his armchair.  He was definite feeling a bit… different.  He couldn’t really understand why, though.  Instead of worrying about it, he helped himself to another brownie.  The damn things were like peanuts… well, walnuts in this case.  At least he thought there were walnuts in these brownies.  There was something…

“It came to me in a dream.”  Illya laughed and then sobered.  “Can I ask you something?”

“’Kay.”  Napoleon finished his brownie and took a careful sip of his coffee.  It was the perfect temperature.

“Do you like me?”  Illya’s head lolled in his direction.

“What?  Yeah, of course I like you.  You’re my partner.”

“Then why haven’t you tried to kiss me?”

Napoleon laughed.  “Illya, you’re a boy.”

“Thanks.  Now I’ll know which restroom to go into.”    Illya sighed.  “I know I’m a man, Napoleon, but haven’t you even once wondered what it would be like to kiss me?”

The question caught Napoleon by surprise.  Of course he’d wondered.  Who in their right mind didn’t want to plant a big juicy kiss on his partner?   Napoleon had no trouble imagining anyone kissing his partner… well, maybe Waverly.

“Well?”  Illya prompted.

“I figured you’d sock me.” Napoleon decided truth was the safest bet.  He was feeling very relaxed and calm, but also suddenly very hungry and not for more brownies.

“You figured wrong.”  Illya looked away and sighed.

Napoleon weighed his options for about a half of one second before standing, moving directly to Illya and giving him a kiss of what Napoleon hoped was his lifetime.  There was the briefest of hesitations, then Illya’s mouth opened to his and Illya’s hands were holding him.  They kissed until Napoleon was certain he would spontaneously combust.  How many times he’d dreamt of this moment.

He pulled away with a cocky ‘you have been kissed by a Solo’ look on his face.  “Well?”

The answering smile was sly.  “I’m serious, Napoleon.  Haven’t you ever wanted to kiss me?”

“What?“  He was indignant.  “What do you just call what I did to you?”

“A good start, but hardly something worthy of your supposed talents.”

“Supposed talents?”  Napoleon was furious.  “Hold on to your heart, Kuryakin.  We’re going take a ride.”

                                                                                 ****

It felt as if something had died in Napoleon’s mouth, although what the something was he didn’t want to think about.  He needed to think about something safe… something like why was he naked and in bed with Illya.  Why did the room have the distinct smell of sex?  Why did his ass hurt?

“No!” Napoleon sat up and then winced at an entire cacophony of aches and pains.

“Don’t shout, Napoleon.  At least not until I find the top of my skull.”  Illya shifted and brought a hand up to massage his eyes.  “What was in those brownies?  I feel as if I’ve been on a bender without the benefit of a bottle.”

“No idea.”  Napoleon managed to get upright and took a few stumbling step.  An empty cardboard tray sat, precariously balanced on his dresser and he frowned at the colorful design of the paper.  He picked it up, frowned as crumbs fell to his carpet and held it up for Illya to see.  “Illya, do you know what this is?”

“I think a marijuana leaf.  Why?”  Illya got his legs over the edge of the bed and looked as if that was as much as he intended to accomplish for the moment.

“I think I know what was in the brownies we had last night.”  Napoleon dropped the tray back to the dresser and returned to sit beside him.  “We need to talk about what happened.”

“Why?  We ate drugged brownies and we had sex.”

“Is that all it was to you?  A one-time act of mindless sex?”  _Of incredibly intense and rewarding sex?_ Napoleon thought.  For the first time in his life, it had been more than a mere case of connecting.  It had been something more.  He remembered feeling… complete and satisfied, not with just the sex, but with everything.  No one had ever made him feel that way before.

“No.”  The response was soft and laced with sadness.  “But for the sake of our partnership and friendship, I am willing to leave it at that.”

“I’m not.”  Napoleon rubbed his shoulder.  “Although I’m willing to let some time pass before we try another round.  I’m not as in shape as I thought I was.”

“I, for once, am inclined to agree.”  Illya plopped back on the bed.  “I hurt everywhere, but I suppose it could have been from that little gymnastic display from yesterday afternoon, but I don’t think so.”

Napoleon stretched out alongside him, letting his fingers travel across Illya’s chest.  Goose bumps followed in the wake and Napoleon found he quite liked having that sort of response to his touch.  “I think we should send Ramona a nice thank you card.”

Illya caught Napoleon’s hand and kissed it.  “But later I think.”  His eyes were mere slits and Napoleon thought the look very becoming.

Napoleon smiled and nodded.  “Much, much later.”  He kissed his partner good and proper and then added, “Do you think that brownie place delivers?”

“No, but I do.”

 

 


End file.
